More than just Chemistry
by featherbirdz
Summary: This is my first ever fanfic. It is pretty cut and dry and taken from episode two of Sherlock, The Blind Banker. First person. Tabitha Meyers consulting detective runs into Sherlock and John and they work together to solve a case. Sherlock and Tabitha may have built more than just a partnership in solving crime. Any comments would be great. I'd like to know if I should finish it
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was 5:00 when I woke up. Jumped out of bed was more like it. I didn't usually wake up this early. I was on edge, probably just the dream I had. I pulled on my dressing robe and scuffled to the kitchen to put the kettle on. I sat on the sofa and started to rub my temples, headache. I knocked over the pile of books I had on the living room table looking for yesterday's newspaper. I found the corner of a newspaper hiding under a particularly heavy book and snatched it out. The newspaper had ripped in half, I sighed and looked at the date, and it was old. No matter. I threw it to the floor with the rest of my piles of books and headed for the kitchen. I made myself some tea and stood in my dark kitchen drinking it slowly. Closing my eyes I drifted into thought. Tea was something I had always been fond of, but sometimes I missed having coffee in the morning. When I was young I always used to wake up to the smell of coffee pouring out of the kitchen. Coffee was my parents' daily dose of energy. After my parents died I mostly just drank it as a tribute to them. Coffee wasn't as common here in England so I found myself longing for it from time to time, but I usually just tried to push those thoughts from my mind. I exhaled deeply and opened my eyes. I brought my cup to my mouth only to discover my tea had gone cold. I wasn't surprised. I was often lost inside my own head, sometimes for hours. I gulped down the tea and shook my head.

I was sifting through my closet to find something suitable to wear out. "No. No. No." I wasn't particularly picky about my clothes but I hadn't done laundry in awhile and I hadn't anything clean that I liked. I walked back to the bathroom and pulled the towel off of my wet hair and started to comb through it with my fingers when I heard a knock at my door. It was just 3 short raps at the door. I listened carefully for another. "Who is it?" I yelled out of my bathroom. No answer. I wrapped my towel tighter around my body and walked to the door. I opened it, no one outside. "Hello? Anybody there?" I stepped out the door to look down the hallway and saw no one. After coming back inside I felt something stuck to my foot, a sticky note. I examined closer.

_They need you to make a deposit. The banker may owe someone a little more than change. Blood is always repaid._

I flipped it over looking for more information. There was nothing. "Owe..." I whispered. "Owe, owe, owe. …OH!" I smiled and held the note into the air. "A case." I said with a grin.

I slid into a cab and continued reading an article in the newspaper. "Vandalism at Shad Sanderson a Mystery" Paint on the walls in an executive office. Nothing was stolen. Curious. No sign of forced entry. I closed the newspaper and started to think. How do you get into a bank undetected? Couldn't have been an employee, the key card would have been recognized. No forced entry, anything being broken would have been caught on film. How do you get in?! I yelled inside my head. The cab stopped and I stepped out. I turned around to face the massive building in front of me, it nearly hurt my neck trying to see the top of the building. I flung my shoulder bag so it rested against my back and I strutted into the building. I stood still and looked around, noticing. Trading hours, security cameras, not to mention 24 hour security guards, there were people in this building all hours of the day, how does a vandal slip by unnoticed? I turned up my face from the confusion. I approached the front desk. "Detective Meyers." I stated "I need to see your supervisor." The woman sitting behind it looked at me with big doe eyes and she held her shaky hands to her chest. She was frightened, nervous. She hesitated.

"I'm sorry ma'am. Uh…uh… he isn't seeing anyone today"

"Look…"I glanced at her name plate. "Cindy. This is important, vandalism isn't the worst of the problems going on here. I need to speak to your supervisor immediately!" I placed both my hands on the counter and widened my eyes "IT COULD BE LIFE OR DEATH!" I said harshly. She jumped at my exclamation and I smiled to myself. She started typing away at her computer then stood up.

"P-please if you'll follow me ma'am."

I almost felt guilty. She was a new employee, her uniform was crisp and was still an alarming shade of white, brand new. Her hair was curled and pulled up, she had on nice jewelry and a bright red lip color. She was trying to make an impression, only been here a week I presumed and here I am scaring the girl. I chuckled in the elevator and she gave me a startling look.

"Excuse me" I said. I cleared my throat and smiled under my hand. Poor girl.

I stepped out of the elevator and gave the girl a nod. There was a well dressed business man waiting for my arrival. He offered me his hand and I shook it.

"Tabitha" I said to him. "Tabitha Meyers, Detective."

"Sebastian. It's a pleasure." He responded. I began to look around, examining the room. I started making my way into the vandalized room when I was interrupted.

"I'm sorry Ms. Meyers but another detective has been here already I'm afraid he is already looking into the matter." He smiled politely at me. I smiled back at him, how naïve he was.

"He doesn't know what he's looking for. This is more than just a simple act of vandalism and I'm not looking for any kind of compensation. Would it be alright if I just had a look around?"

"Help yourself. If there is _anything_ I can get you please let me know." And he didn't try to hide his glances down at my body and smile before turning round.

"Right" I responded sarcastically, making sure to stress the word. I scoffed and got to work. I walked into the painted room. It was a poor brand of yellow spray paint that is usually bought in bulk. The artist wasn't looking for recognition for his work, the lines were muffled and messy, he was sending a message. "To who?" I noted. The symbols, I'd seen them before, I snapped a picture so I could analyze it further later on. This wasn't an office that gets used often so the message wasn't for whomever it belonged to.. Who would see it and know what it meant? I stood in front of the painting and turned around trying to narrow down who would be able to see it clearly. I started to walk. "Nope. Not you. Excuse me. Aaahhh." Clarity. I stood in front of an office that had two labels _Hong Kong_ and another one that was empty. I peeked inside. As far as I could tell it was an average office. It looked like he spent a lot of time abroad, his office was hardly used. He didn't have many personal items here save one, a Chinese kite mounted on the wall. I called for Sebastian.

"Whose office is this?" I asked

"Eddie Van Coon. Why?"

"Thank you for your time Sebastian." I shook his hand and left.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I looked up Van Coons address online and headed straight over to his flat, I was too late. The police were here already. "Damn" I approached the nearest policeman.

"What happened here?"

"And just who are you?"

"Tabitha Meyers, Detective. What happened?"

"Why don't you ask the inspector yourself?" He raised the police tape and let me through. "Fifth floor" he spoke as I walked away. I climbed the stairs to the fifth floor and walked into the flat.

"Inspector?" I asked the first man I came across. He shook his head and pointed to a man standing in the living area.

"Tabitha Meyers, Detective." I said quickly to the inspector.

"Detective Inspector Dimmock." He replied. "I'm sorry but there is already another detective on this case, he was here yesterday."

"So I've been told" I said through gritted teeth. "What can you tell me? What happened to Van Coon?"

"Suicide." He said to me plainly.

"Suicide?" I said questioning his judgment. "How?"

"He did it with a gun. The other detective seems to think he was murdered but he seems a bit loony to me. Not credible."

"Hmm… This other detective, can you tell me his name?"

"Sherlock Holmes"

"What was it that he said? Can you fill me in on the details?" quickly, I thought.

"Uh… Door was locked from the inside and he had a bullet wound on the right side of his head, gun in hand. Suicide." He said again simply. I sighed.

"Thank you Inspector. I'll need to look over the evidence. I'll be in touch." Damn this Sherlock, here before me.

I popped on over to Scotland Yard to get a copy of Van Coons file. I sat at an empty desk to flip through the findings. There were scribbles from what I assumed was notes taken from what this other detective had declared.

_ Left handed._

_ Recently returned from abroad._

_ Something was tightly packed in his suitcase but was nowhere to be found._

_ He was gone for three days _

_ Murder? _

I could see how the inspector could easily cast off Van Coons death as a suicide. But the real signs were there clearly. Van Coon was left handed and was shot on the right side of his head that was easily looked over. I began to entertain the thought of this case including a robbery. What was in Van Coons case and why was it gone? I'd get to that later I thought, I stored the thought away and continued reading. No sign of entry, doors were locked from the inside. Whoever this killer was he was clever. The ballistics report showed that the bullet that killed Van Coon didn't come from his own gun. "Suicide?!" I nearly yelled in amazement. How can these men be so oblivious to what was right in front of them. I took a few more mental notes from the file and gave it back. I was frustrated as I walked out of Scotland Yard. I hate that I was getting help from this _Sherlock Holmes,_ I sneered. "This is MY case." I thought. I don't want your help. Even though the voice in the back of my head was trying to disagree with me. "He was clever" I admitted. "But it can't last for long." I nearly laughed thinking of him running out of leads. How shameful of me, I immediately regretted it.

I got in the bath when I got home. The hot water always helped me focus. Where had I seen those symbols before? Think Tabs, think. I dipped my head under water and opened my eyes. I saw the rippled lines of a ceiling but all I could picture were the painted symbols on the wall at the bank. A flurry of thoughts came rushing to my head, all random, all connected. Van Coon, bullet, trading, murder, paint, message. I pulled my head out of the water and gasped for air. I wiped away the water from my face and hung my head back. It must have been a threat, it was a code. What's the code?! What are the symbols?! Again, another rush of words came to me. Eddie, gun, Hong Kong, suicide, yellow, threat. "Hong Kong…" I whispered. I shot my head up excitedly. "Hong Kong! That's it! I knew I'd seen them before!" I flew out of the bathtub and raced to my living room dripping water everywhere. I scanned all of my bookshelves quickly searching for a book I read in college about ancient Chinese language. "Aha!" I plucked it from a shelf and flipped through the pages. There, the symbol. They were numbers, 15 and one. But what's the code?! I left the book on the sofa and decided that I should probably put some clothes on. I drained the bathtub and grabbed a towel. I headed back to the living room to study the symbols in the book.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I woke up early with the book still in hand. My neck sore from the way I had slept on it. I stretched and made myself some tea. I put on fresh clothes and headed back to the sofa. I opened my laptop to check for any news that would relate to my case. I searched the web and sipped my tea. I came across the article rather easily, it was front page "Ghostly Killer Leaves a Mystery for Police". "An intruder who can walk through walls…" that fits. Without thinking twice I decided to check it out. I grabbed my book and shoved it in my bag and headed for the door. I called Inspector Dimmock when I got into the cab.

"Dimmock" he answered.

"Yes, inspector? Tabitha Meyers, I spoke to you yesterday about Eddie Van Coon."

"Yes I remember. How can I help you?"

"On the web there was an article about a ghostly killer. A man named Lukis is dead. I'd like to see the crime scene, I feel it's relative to my case."

"Look Ms. Meyers…"

"Tabitha, please."

"Tabitha, I don't want to come off as rude but I can't be wasting my time talking to two different detectives about the same case." Damn him, both of them. I exhaled and pulled the phone away from my face in anger, I was about to hang up, I hesitated.

"Fine, I'd still like to see Lukis' flat." I said in frustration.

"I'm meeting Sherlock and a colleague of his there in half an hour, you can meet us there if you really feel it's necessary."

"Address?" I asked. He gave me the address and I hung up without another word. "Who is this guy?!" I yelled in the cab. I swore I saw the cabbie jump. I turned my attention out the window. Its fine, I kept telling myself. You're getting working up over nothing. I made my self grin through clenched teeth. "Fine" I repeated. I popped in some ear buds and slipped away with the music in my head.

When I arrived at Lukis' flat I felt a little better although I was still a bit hesitant to meet this Sherlock character. I saw Dimmock waiting outside the building with two other men. I walked over to greet them. I held my hand out to Dimmock.

"Hello" I greeted. He shook my hand and pointed to the tall man standing next to him.

"American" I heard the tall man whisper to his friend, who then rolled his eyes at his statement.

"Tabitha this is…" and the tall man interrupted him then.

"Sherlock Holmes, pleasure." He said curtly. I took his hand.  
"Tabitha Meyers" I said with a grin on my face, surprised at how easy it was to smile. He was tall and slender. He had dark curly locks and shockingly light blue/green eyes. He was dressed nicely. He had on a thick wool overcoat, a navy blue scarf wrapped around his neck, black dress pants and a slick pair of leather shoes.

"This is my friend, Doctor John Watson." He said to me.

"Nice to meet you" I smiled at him.

"Uh… Yes, yes." Was all he managed to say. He had a silly looking grin on his face. He was about the same height as me with sandy blonde hair. He had a pleasant face but the wrinkles that were present showed indications of worry, even sorrow. He stood strong but I noticed that he favored leaning to one side more than the other. He had a soft middle but the grip of his handshake showed that he didn't always use to be this way. He was well groomed and neat.

"Army doctor?" I inquired. He looked at me confused.

"Erm… yes but… how did?" and he cut off his sentence to look at Sherlock. I noticed Sherlock look at me abruptly with an even more perplexed look than the doctor. He said nothing. He only stared. I looked back at him with raised eyebrows. I slowly turned my head to respond to John's question.

"Umm…" I began to speak slowly, glancing back at Sherlock for a brief second then turning toward John. "The wrinkles on your face suggest you spent a lot time under stress and worry, which would fit the description an army doctor. You favor right side more than your left which suggests you obtained a major injury, possibly caused in the war. Your strong handshake says you were proud of what you did, your handshake is the first impression to the many, I'm assuming soldiers, you met in the war. It had to be strong. And the doctor part, well, your friend here, Sherlock, just told me." And I smiled sweetly at him. "Am I right?" John started to chuckle and with an opened face grin and turned to Sherlock who was staring at me with his mouth parted and his eyebrows looking as though they were in some sort of contortion act at the circus.

"Sherlock" John started with a little laugh "She does that thing that you.."

"Shut up John!" Sherlock said sharply. I looked at him genuinely puzzled.

"Sorry?" I said sheeply. Sherlock straightened his face.

"Erm… shall we?" was all he said and turned to walk away. I looked at John who seemed to give me a smile of approval before turning to follow Sherlock into the flat.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sherlock was first in the flat. He sprinted up the stairs in the entry way rather quick and started bobbing about the apartment. I slowly walked up the stairs behind John. I noticed a red book on the floor and picked it up. I held in my arms and continued up the stairs.

"Big fan of origami?" I said rhetorically. I picked up the folded paper item lying in the center of the room and examined it. Black paper, some kind of flower. I stored it in my bag.

"Mmm" Was all Sherlock had to add to that conversation. I rolled my eyes slightly and continued to sweep the room for clues. Sherlock looked out of the living room window and smirked.

"Four floors up" I heard him whisper

"Hmm?" I said half listening

"That's why they think they're safe" he whispered again to him self. "put a chain across the door, bolt it shut, they think they're impregnable." I looked at him intently then, putting the pieces together in my head.

"They don't reckon for one second there's another way in" he said glancing quickly around the room. "We're dealing with a killer who can climb" he mentioned to Dimmock.

"Of course… the bank, Van Coons apartment, and now here. All were high above the ground and no one would think scaling a wall would be the first thing that would come to the killer's mind. At least not Van Coon or Lukis" I chuckled and received a disapproving look from John. Sherlock finished explaining to Dimmock what he and I had already put together in our heads. Our killer could climb and that's how he was getting in, windows, and balconies.

"I have to find out what connects these two men" Sherlock added. "There. In your hand, that book."

"Hmm? Here" I pointed out. "A book from West Kensington Library" I handed it over and Sherlock flipped it open and with instant determination he walked out of the flat.

"I guess that's it. Thank you inspector." I said as I rushed after Sherlock.

Why was I following this mad man? I chased after him." Sherlock! Wait!" I shouted from behind him. He slowed his pace and I caught up to him. He stopped and turned towards me. I expected him to say something but he stood silent.

"Who are you?" I commanded. With precision in his voice he said plainly

"Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective." And with obvious hesitation he questioned me "Who are you?"

"Tabitha Meyers, Detective." I paused. I was confused because we had done this already. "Consulting detective? That's genius. Do you mind if I use that? I always considered myself a private detective but I'm not necessarily for hire." He smiled politely which I took as a kind of a "Do I have a choice?" response from Sherlock.

"Look, it's obvious that my presence bothers you, but I'm finishing this case. We can go our separate ways afterwards." I declared. He gave me a kind sort of apologetic face and opened his mouth to speak but before he could John came up behind us to interject.

"To the library then?" John spoke. Sherlock walked away to catch us a cab. I noticed myself staring when I heard John speak to me again.

"He's threatened by you. He won't admit it though. He's curious, and likes you. Stick around if you can bare it." He smiled and walked away towards Sherlock and I found myself dumbfounded by this man. Sherlock Holmes. We squeezed into the cab and I dared not look at him. I took a deep breath in and he turned to look at me. He smelled good, not what I would expect him to smell like. It was an earthy smell, a deep cedar or pine but sweet like morning dew. I tried not to give away the satisfaction on my face. I had a feeling I wasn't very successful at it. I saw him begin to open his mouth and I shuddered at what I imagined he would say, what he actually said surprised me even more.

"Wouyoulicomefertea?" he said in a rush, it was all jumbled and I wasn't able to make out the words. I openly laughed and saw a smile form on a face that was already a deep shade of pink.  
"What?" I said bluntly with a chuckle. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. He spoke slowly and decisive.

"After, would you like to come to mine for a cup of tea?" I felt John shift in his seat beside me, no doubt he was feeling uncomfortable from Sherlock and mine's conversation. Although I had to admit so was I.

"Sure. Only if we can compare notes." I insisted. He squinted his eyes as he made up his mind.

"Hmm. Fine. Deal." I thought I saw him smile as he looked out the window.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The three of us piled out of the cab like it was a clown car. I straightened my coat and turned to see if Sherlock and John were behind me. I lead us into the library.

"Excuse me a moment." I said to Sherlock and John and went to the facilities while Sherlock checked in Lukis' book. I stepped into the restroom and looked in the mirror. I looked tired but I smiled at my reflection. Nothing had made me happier than being hot on the trail. Again in my head I repeated all the facts that I had about this case. Trying to figure what connected Van Coon and Lukis is what, I'm embarrassed to admit, had me stumped. Van Coon was a business man and Lukis was… I hadn't been told what Lukis did. I made it a note to find out. Either way I couldn't see what these men had in common, what did they share other than how their killer reached them? I had nothing, for once my mind was blank. I washed my hands and searched for Sherlock and John in the library.

When I came across them, Sherlock and John both had a pile of books in their arms. I looked at them confused wondering if they were planning on checking them out to help with the case. John noticed my puzzled face.

"Here, look here. We found it behind the books." And there it was again. Written in yellow spray paint were the symbols that were on the wall at the bank.

"Hmm" was all I could say. Now knowing that Van Coon and Lukis were in fact connected by the same murderer meant that they at least were part of the same case. It wasn't just a coincidence that they both died in ways that were similar to each other. The question now was figuring out who killed them and why. The only way of knowing that was decoding the cipher, but how? I snapped another picture of the symbols for reference and nodded to Sherlock that I had all I needed.

Sherlock and John shared a flat on 221B Baker Street, they invited me up to their second floor apartment and I sat down making myself comfortable. John had put the kettle on and Sherlock had printed out a picture he had snapped at the library of the vandals' art. He hung it on the wall next to a collage of photos that related to the case. Sherlock studied the pictures and John walked up to join him. They chatted amongst themselves about what they knew about the case so far.

"Why do they die Sherlock?" commented John.

"Only the cipher can tell us." Sherlock pointed out.

I stood up to peek at Sherlock's artwork on the wall, he had multiple photos of the yellow paintings and other sheets of paper that correlated to the case. I happened to glance over at the kitchen and did a double take. I was shocked, the kitchen looked like a mad mans science lab. There were beakers and cylinders, microscopes and test tubes scattered on the table and they were filled with only god knows what. I wondered how they lived here, surprised that they hadn't died already from some kind of infection or contamination. John nonchalantly strolled into the kitchen to pour us some tea. They were obviously unaware of what a normal persons' kitchen looked like because they didn't acknowledge the fact that a bomb had apparently exploded in that room. I shook off the disgusting feeling I had creeping up my body and sat down trying to ignore what I had just seen. But, my mind couldn't help but wander. Did all men live like this or were these two men special in this circumstance? I assumed that Sherlock was the culprit, John was a military man. He was always tidy and neat, he was also a doctor and by the looks of it, those were the setups of a biology lab, chemistry maybe, I wasn't too sure, but not something a Doctor would spend much of his free time dabbling in. I had only taken a few science courses at college, enough to learn the basics. I spent most of my time with my nose in what I thought were practical books. They have all been useful to me for my profession, I couldn't complain, I just wish that I had spent a little more time with some safety goggles, gloves, and a microscope. Crimes would certainly be solved a lot quicker had I studied science more in depth. I could see how science could come in handy, but I spent most my time studying people, their habits and languages, old and new.

"Tabitha. Tabitha. Tabitha?"

"Yes?" I said snapping out of my trance. John was holding out a cup of tea and I thanked him. Thanks for tea Sherlock, I said sarcastically in my head. I started to take a sip when Sherlock jumped across the room to grab his coat.

"Come on" he announced. John looked at me and shrugged and grabbed his jacket. I sighed and took a quick sip of my tea. So much for that idea. I set the mug on a side table and pulled my bag off the sofa. I slid one arm through my coat, reaching around to slip in my other one.

"Where are we going?!" I yelled as I bounded down the steps in the entry way.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Cambridge?" Sherlock asked me as we walked briskly across Trafalgar Square.

"Oxford." I replied matter of factly.

"What is it that you're running from?"

"I'm not running from anything" I breathed deeply knowing where this conversation was heading.

"You must be. You haven't returned to the states since you came abroad to attend university."

"How can you tell?" I inquisited, although I already knew the answer, it was simple.

"If you had been back, we wouldn't be having this conversation, you wouldn't be here in England, you would have stayed there, in America and started a career close to home. If you had a significant other here in England, which would be a valid reason for staying, he or _she" _he added "would have rang or text you, but your mobile hasn't received either since we've met. Also, unless you're just trying to get ahead in the case by finding out what I know, you wouldn't have accepted my invitation for tea. " I scoffed and glanced at him. I didn't need his help solving this case, I was forced to work with him. I brushed it off but sped up my walking pace. "You're obviously cut off from everyone you once knew which only leaves one explanation, you're running from something." I slowed a little now and began to speak with a fragile voice.

"I have nothing to go back to." I felt a prick in my eye that could only be a fresh tear forming. "My parents are dead." I wiped away the tear from my face I took a deep breath trying to push away the feelings. "I don't have a home anymore." Sherlock had stopped. I turned around to approach him.

"An orphan…" he spoke in almost a whisper. He took a step forward and took my hand. "I'm very sorry Tabitha."

"Its fine, it happened a long time ago." I said in almost a sing song voice, just trying to push away the pain, just trying to let go, to move on. I let go of his hand and smiled. He gave me a gentle smile but I could see the empathy in his face. John had caught up with us and I turned before he could ask anything. I heard him whisper to Sherlock.

"What was all that about?" I was too far to hear Sherlock's response to John, it didn't matter to me at this point. I felt a few more tears fall across my face before wiping them away. I shook my hands out beside me and tried to forget the conversation.

I turned around to sit at the edge of the fountain in the monumental Trafalgar Square. I sat and stared at the water, and at passing people just trying to clear my head. I still had no idea where it was we were headed, where Sherlock was dragging us. I had to give him credit, I didn't expect him to be… well… him. He was smart and clever, he was quick too! I had never seen anyone pick up on things, on clues as quickly as he had done, I had a big ego but even I wasn't as fast as he. Sherlock and John came around the fountain to stand in front of me.

"So where is it we're headed?" I asked. He gave me a smirk and an odd look like I knew the answer already. "The answer…" I mumbled to myself. The cipher was the answer to our problem, but what was the answer to the cipher?

"The world's run on codes and ciphers John. From the million pound security system at the bank to the pin machine you took exception to, cryptography inhabits our every waking moment."

"Yes, okay, but…" John started to reply in agreement.

"But its all computer generated electric codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different. It's an ancient device. Modern code breaking methods won't unravel it."

"So where are we headed?" John asked. I looked up curious for the answer as well.

"I need to ask advice." said Sherlock.

"What? Sorry?" John said picking at Sherlock. Sherlock turned around and we followed.

"You heard me perfectly I'm not saying it again." We started to traipse up the steps of the The National Gallery.

"You need advice?" I said

"On painting yes, I need to talk to an expert."

"Alright then." And John and I followed suit.

The three of us walked around the corner of the National Gallery into a back alleyway. There, painting the wall was a young street artist with two different spray cans in his hands. He must have recognized Sherlock because he spoke without asking for an introduction.

"Part of my new exhibition" the artist spoke. The name under his piece said Raz, unique name I thought.

"Interesting" Sherlock replied in a bored, not at all interested voice. Why do we need to know about paint? I entertained the thought for a moment. If this artist knew our vandal, if he could recognize him or his artwork, we could find him and put this case to bed.

"I call it 'Urban Bloodlust Frenzy'" Raz chuckled as he was painting.

"Catchy" John said in a sarcastic voice. He looked at me like this artist had truly lost his mind. I had to agree with John, but to each their own I guess, it was his art, illegal street art, but still his, he could call it what he wanted.

"I've got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes around that corner. Could we do this while I'm working?" I wondered if Sherlock had many friends like this. I wondered if he spent his time with street artists, or drug dealers, or the homeless. Sherlock didn't seem like the kind of man to have friends with those particular traits but I had a feeling Sherlock had many surprises up his sleeve. I could see John looking at me, probably watching me make faces in reaction to my thoughts.

"Sorry" I said "It's just a… a thing. I do uh… yeah… sorry." I rubbed the back of my neck and smiled wryly. "Right…" Sherlock handed Raz his phone so he could look at the photos he had taken of our vandals work. Raz tossed one of his spray cans to John to hold while he searched through the photos.

"Know the author?" Sherlock asked.

"Recognize the paint. Looks like Michigan Hardcore propellant." He looked at Sherlock. "I'd say zinc." I caught myself staring at Sherlock. I had a few moments to spare. I began to wonder what kind of life he had. I tried to think about who he was and how he was the way he was. I took a good look at him now. He had money, his wardrobe attested to that. Although it didn't seem like he would be the sort of man who would take a special day to go shopping for the perfect button up shirt, he had good style. Obviously intelligent, I spotted that right away, it didn't take a genius to figure out that _he_ was. He had good schooling, the money must have come from his family, inheritance maybe? I couldn't be sure about that. But he had enough to attend a good university, have a nice wardrobe, and pay rent for a flat without taking a real job. I stared harder trying to see what else I could deduce from him. Nothing… nothing came to mind. Raz and Sherlock continued to talk about our vandal. I watched Sherlock's lips move but I was so consumed in my thoughts that I couldn't hear the words. I saw him turn his head abruptly to look at something behind me. I was unprepared for what happened next. His eyes widened and he and Raz turned to flee. My heart started to race, confused by his reaction I tried to keep myself calm. Time seemed to slow down a little.

"What?" I said to Sherlock, or at least I think I said. My heartbeat was in my ears and I couldn't hear my own words. The reaction was all so quick. Sherlock had only taken a few steps before he slid a little on his leather shoes to turn around. He ran towards me and grabbed my hand and pulled me with him.

"Run" was all he said and in a flurry we sped off around the corner to the main road.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Like lightning we ran a ways down the road and like magic, Sherlock pulled us into a cab and we drove away. I sat in the cab trying to catch my breath and looked around in bewilderment. I faced Sherlock and he was watching me, I was in amazement. He was so calm. He had managed to catch his breath and was sitting in silence just staring at me. The adrenaline slowly began to leave my body and feeling started to return. I flexed my fingers and felt his hand still wrapped around mine. I pulled it back immediately.

"You ok?" he asked.

"uh… yeah…" I stuck my thumb out and pointed behind us. "What the hell just happened?" I tried to piece it together but only the wildest of ideas popped into my head. Either the vandal/murderer had found us and was chasing us down the alleyway with a deadly weapon, or Raz and Sherlock were in on some sort of drug ring and the gang was coming to collect. A few other ideas came into my head like sparks of insanity, all of which involved some sort of angry person chasing us down for the kill.

"It's alright" he started to get a silly grin on his face. He could obviously see the fear and more prominent confusion written all over my face. "A couple officers were rounding the corner. I'm a busy man Tabitha, I don't have time to go to court." You have got to be kidding me. We ran because he didn't want to get caught for vandalizing a public building.

"Seriously?" I asked. "My heart nearly pounded out of my chest." He smiled. "It was exciting." I admitted, starting to gather a smile on my face as well. To be honest, this was part of what I searched for in a case. It was exhilarating, and I loved it. The adrenaline rush and the chase were thrilling. I looked at Sherlock and slapped his shoulder. Asshole. I started to laugh uncontrollably. The both of us laughed in the back of that cab like a couple of school children. My sides started to ache. I put my hand on his shoulder and started to breathe again. I let out a long breath and wiped away the tears on my face from having laughed so hard.

"Mmm. Thanks." I said to him genuinely. We pulled up to 221B and we stepped out of the cab. "Do you think John caught another cab?" He obviously didn't catch a ride with us, but I didn't remember seeing or hearing him running behind Sherlock and I.

"Of course" Sherlock reassured me. He held the door open for me and I pounced up the steps to his flat.

I took my coat off and set my bag on the sofa. Sherlock made us some tea. I was surprised. I stepped over to him to grab the cup in his hand. He stood in front of the mantle studying the evidence we had collected. I sat down in the chair to his left. For a moment I decided not to think about the case. I was tired. The three of us had been running around London since the start. I hadn't eaten at all since two days ago. I started to think about it and could feel the emptiness in my stomach.

"You hungry? You want to grab something to eat?" I asked Sherlock, holding my empty stomach.

"I don't like to eat while I'm on the case." He said to me with his hand under his chin. He was thinking hard. The amount of concentration written on this mans face was infatuating. Do I look like that when I think? There were so many things I wanted to know about him. Sherlock was the one person who had ever had me stumped. He was the only person I really wanted to know about. I thought about how he would react to me after this case was closed, if he would allow me to hang around. I didn't want to leave his company so soon. I sipped my tea and ran my fingers through my long dark hair. I noticed Sherlock turn to look at me. He smiled, I returned it. He then looked to the doorway and I heard it open. John walked through, his body was rigid. Sherlock turned to study his photos again.

"You've been awhile" Sherlock said nonchalantly to John.

"Yeah, well, you know how it is" John replied to Sherlock annoyed. "Custody sergeants don't really like to be hurried, do they?"

"Oh jesus" I got up and stood next to him and placed my hand on his back. "They took you in?"

"Just the formalities—fingerprints, charge sheet, and I've got to be in magistrates court on Tuesday." I gave him an apologetic look. I didn't think he would actually get taken in. I guess I should have assumed as much when it took him so long to return home. I've been getting distracted. Sherlock, the distractor. I needed to focus. Come on Tabs, focus. I felt guilty for what happened to John.

"What?" said Sherlock not listening to John. Did he really not care at all?

"Me, Sherlock, in court on Tuesday they're giving me an ASBO."

"Good, fine." I looked at Sherlock incredulously, although he was unaware. He was still staring at his photos of the case.

"You wanna tell your little pal he's welcome to go and own up anytime." John was getting a temper now. I went to the kitchen to make him some tea. Trying to find anything to use in that disaster of a kitchen was quite a daunting task. I pulled my head out from under a cupboard and saw Sherlock ushering John out of the apartment. He needed John to go to the police station to look into Lukis' belongings.

"Wait!" I yelled from the kitchen. "I'll go with you!" I grabbed my coat and bag off the sofa and we were off once again.

I slid into the cab before John, and I watched as Sherlock caught another one behind us. He was probably off to get a hold of Van Coon's belongings. Van Coon was a businessman and if he didn't have a personal agenda, more than likely his personal assistant had kept track of his comings and goings.

"What was Lukis' profession?" I asked John

"Mm, journalism" he said. Journalism, ok, good. So Van Coon and Lukis had to be connected somehow. The answers will most likely be found in their agendas, diaries, however they kept track of their lives.

"Sherlock told me that you had caught a cab behind us." I said randomly to John thinking about his trip to Scotland Yard for vandalism he didn't do. "I'm sorry"

"Not your fault" he gave me a smile that said that he wasn't surprised that Sherlock had gotten him into that mess.

"Still, if there is anyway I can make it up…"

"Just let me know next time we're being chased" he said quickly with a chuckle.

"If I'm aware we are being chased." I raised my eyebrows and said honestly. "I'd say that's a fair enough request." John sighed as we pulled up to Scotland Yard. I had a feeling that being here twice in one day was a bit much for him.


End file.
